CHRIS: A LOVE STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19217, 5 January 1926, Page 14

CHRIS: A LOVE STORY.

BY JOHN IRONSIDE.

SYNOPSIS. Chris Carey, a radiant feirl, is wading in n secluded stream in Combe gorge, gathering forget-me-nots. A stranger, George jammer, thinks he hits never seen a lovelier picture. Ho asks the way to the Manor, the homo of Sir John Carey. Before lie can start his car ng.im an aeroplano crashes near by and bursts into flames. Chris rushes forwnrd fiud drags the airman away from the burning machine. Lorimer —for whom Chris has developed an intense dislike—informs her that the unconscious man is tho famous V.C. rce. Captain Dick Raymond. Chris diseases her identity—Sir John's daughter. S!:e directs Lorimer to the Manor for help. A fully trained V.A.D., Chris succours ilia injured man, who re Brains consciousness before her aunt appears in charge of n rescue party. Hitherto heart free, Chris feels strongly drawn to Dick, who exacts n promise that he will seo her again. Lorimer finds some withered forq;et-me-nots in the car nnd carefully puts them in his pocket-book. Chris asks her invalid father who Lorimer is. and the object of his forthcoming visit. Sir John cannot tell her. Lorimer is ushered in, Chris's plan V> avoid meeting him beinp frustrated. llci epxlainn _ that Lady Letty Harden—Sir John's niece—lias suggested that the visit, knowing his ke-Mi interest in antiques. _IIe does not state, his "finds" usually pass into tho possession of rich Americans. ' As a dealer m "old masters," Lorimer has heard of tho Carey treasures, and espies a picture brought homo by an ancestor, from tho Peninsular war. The Carey's think it worthless. Lorimer feels certain he has stumbled on a mnsierpieco, and Sir John, burdened with debt, is overjoyed at tho prosnert of exchanging it for two or three hundred pounds. CHAPTER IV, T.ADY I.ETTY INTERVENES. " lb it's really so, it's tho most wonderful thing that ever happened—to ns, at any rate," said Chris. "When will you know?" asked Dick Raymond, his eyes fixed on her fair, animated face. Ordinarily, he would not have been in tho least interested in the Carey's old picture. Ho was quite as ignorant of such things and their value, as was Chris herself. But she had just been telling him ot' Lorirner's hint that it might be worth two or three hundred pounds, in fi -ono that revealed, more than tho words themselves, how much tho sum meant to them, what high hopes it raised. Therefore, the fato of " Jacob" immediately became of vital importance to Dick. " Oh, not for some time, I expect—weeks, perhaps," she answered. "Mr. Lorimer is coining for it, in a day or two to tako it to some expert in London to be properly cleaned, for till then he can't say anything definite. It may turn out to be worthless, after all," sbo added wistfully. "Not it!" said Dick reassuringly. " What Lorimer doesn't know about that sort of thing isn't worth knowing, and if he hadn't been pretty sure from tho first he wouldn't have put himself to any trouble. I should love to see it," ".Would you really? I'll tell Bowen to bring it up." "Not this minute," he protested hastily, but Chris had already vanished through tho quaint stone stairway that opened on to tho fiat roof of the big Elizabethan porch, where Dick, stretched comfortably on a wheeled invalid couch, had been trundled by Bowen, and, to his great joy, Chris had come out to talk; to bim while her aunt was busy. Never before, in his reckless, adventurous young life, had he met or imagined such delightful-people as the Careys and their old retainers, who had received him, an utter stranger, and tended him as devotedly as if ho had been a near and dear kinsman. Their utterly unaffected simplicity, their frank kindliness, touched and charmed him in a way that he felt deeply, but could not havo expressed it in words. He, like Georgo Lorimer, had soon realised their poverty, and appreciated, as Lorirner's coarser mind never could havo done, the fine, high bred courage with which" they accepted it. Yet, so far from being bored or impatient, he hait never before felt so eagerly interested, so strangely happy, that the pain from his injuries—rapidly abating, C thanks to his own youth and vigour, and to Miss Carey's skilful nursing—seemed as trivial to him as the Carey's poverty appeared to be .to them. He knew perfectly well the reason for this new and ecstatic stato of mind. It was certainly not induced by Miss Carey, though she was " a dear," or by his host, Sir John, who every day, with the assistance of his sister or daughter and old Bowen, painfully mounted tho staircase to sit and chat' with his young guest. It was Chris herself, " fhe lovely lady Christabel" as he always designated her in his own. mind, who had wrought the miracle.

He lay watching tho doorway for her reappearance, heralded presently by the sound of her light footsteps and Bowen's deliberate tread. *' Careful, Bowen—this way," she <said, and came into sight, holding one side of the cumbrous old picture frame. "There!" she said triumphantly, as they propped tho picture against the stone balustrade, where fhe sun shone full upon it, " I've never seen it in such a good light before., But it really doesn't seem possible that it can bo worth anything—now does it ?" "Lovely!" exclaimed Dick, looking at her, and not at the picture, and adding hastily, as she flashed an astonishod glance at him, "I mean anyone can see that it's a jolly fino piqee of work, and it ought to look topping when it's cleaned up. Tho angel's lovely anyhow. Look at the splendid sweep of the wings." , . Chris nodded delightedly (what a shining halo her bronze curls made in the sunlight!) aiul they discussed "old Jacob" for several minutes while Bowen watched tho two eager young faces benignly. "I'd better take 'en back out of the sunshine, Miss Chris," he said presently. "Bnt don't 'eo trouble to help. 'Tisn't so heavy that I can't manage it fine." "Guess what we're going to do first of all, if Mr. Lorimer sells it for us," said Chris, sitting on the balustrade, when tho old man had retreated with his precious burden. "Auntie and I have planned it all out. We're going to take daddy to London, to a specialist, for electrical treatment—radio something or other—Dr. Dennison says he's certain it would cure him, but till now it seemed simply impossible to try it." : "Splendid! You'll let me know where you are, so that I can come up and see yon, though I expect I shall bo back 'in town by that time." Chris beamed at him. "Will you? Oh, how delightful! But don't you live at Bristol ?" "Good Lord, no! I'm only down at tho works near there till I've "got my new valve perfected, which might have been this week but for tho crash." "Hard luck!" said Chris sympathetically. "The very best of luck for me! Only think—but for that I should never have met—you!" His voice fell almost to a whisper, and his glance was far more eloquent than his words. "You—you can't think what it means to me." he continued earnestly, after a little breathless pause. "And* I daren't oven try io tell you—yet. I've never had a home that could bo called a home—• never been in snob a home as this, of yours, where there's such a wonderful atmosphere of peace—and love—and kindness." "No home!" echoed Chris compassionately. _ "Bnt—haven't yon any people, Captain Ravmond ?" He shook his head. " Not to speak of. I've an old annt in tho North of England, my father's sister, whom I haven't seen for years, though sho 'brought mo up' very conscientiously according to bor ideas, and I expect I was . rather a handfal! But we never did hit ' Sfr-off—she's one of those

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and pious persons, you know; and I never could or did do anything right in her eyes!" He laughed and sighed 'reminiscontly and went on: '"You see, I was born in ttio States, at New Orleans. My mother came of an oi l Virginian family, but she died when I was born, and my father died when I was quite a little chap, not four years old. I can only just, remember him as a big man with kind eyes arid sucli a jolly nice shoulder to ride on. So I was sent to England—to Aunt, Ellen. There was only just enough money to educate me decently, and I set my heart on being an engineer, like my father. Aunt Ellen set hers on my being a parson —a parson ! and I won. She'll never forgive mo, poor old soul; what rows we bad over it!" Again he laughed, in boyish triumph, with no trace of resentment. "And did you go straight from school into the Air Service?" asked Chris. "No. I was in tho works when the war began, in my second year. Wo didn't touch aircraft at that time, though personally I was awfully keen on it, and had done quite a lot of iiying—took my ticket —pilot's certificate you know, just before the war. So I got taken on pretty early, and had tho time of my life one way and another. Now I'm sticking to construction —it's all-important if fiyinp is to go ahead as it ought to do—and if my own gadgets turn out all right, one of them specially, as they're going to do, I shall make my pile; that is if I can get 'em taken up properly either here or in tho States, or both. I'm going to see Lylo Lee about them next month, when he's coming over. He's one of the big guns over there, you know, and one of tho best, though he's a multi-millionaire and all that. He knew my father, and has been jolly good to me, too, one way and another, so I've high hopes of him." _ From below came tho deep, melodious bellow of a motor-horn, and the purr of a powerful car speeding up the weedgrown avenue. " My hat, that's somo horn!" exclaimed Dick. "Sounds like a Rolls," and Chris sprang from her perch, and looked 1 over the balustrade. "It's a gorgeous car, such a big one—closed," sho said. "Not Mr. Lorimer's, and —no, ho isn't there," she added in hushed tones, as the car drew up just beneath. "There's an elderly man, rather distinguished looking—l don't know him; and a lady, I can't see her face, but she has a lovely green coat and hat, and — yes, a nurso in uniform, who's staying in the car. Who can they be ?" "Oh, callers, I expect. Don't run away till they send for you," ho pleaded, as she mo'ved irresolutely toward tho doorway. . "But we never havo callers, except people we know well, and we don't know anyone with a car like that," she said uneasily. As they both instinctively listened, a woman's silvery, rather high-pitched voice was hoard, drawing nearer. "Yes, of course, I know my way, Aunt Sybil, though it must be years since I saw the dear old place. How good of you to look after Dickie so well—though it must havo been an awful bore for you—" "I—l believe it's my cousin—Letty Harden," breathed Chris, and simultaneously, Dick muttered, with surprise amounting to consternation— ,> "Lady Letty! What on earth brings her hero ?" Someone fluttered through the doorway like a small whirlwind, a slender figure that, in a knitted silk gown with a sort of floating shoulder-cape, and hat, and veil to match, looked like some vivid green dragon-fly. She actually brushed against Chris, without heeding or even glancing at her, made straight for Dick, both her daintilygloved hands extended, and bent over him, exclaiming: "Oh, Dickie darling, why didn't you let me know ? Too bad of you! I only heard to-day from George Lorimer—l've been oyer to Paris, only got hack yesterday, came straight down to my new place, and got his wiro this morning. So I came over, and have brought Sir Vincent Royle —such good luck that he happened to be in this remote part of the world—" Chris heard no more. Sho turned and fled through the doorway, and almost collided with her aunt, waiting there in a state of considerable agitation. "My dear Chris, it is Letty herself!" she whispered hurriedly. "Of course I've spoken aiiout her to Captain Raymond, but I quite understand that he only knew her casually, though you remember what Mr. Lorimer said that night? Has he said anything .to you ?" Chris shook her head, and Miss Sybil, drawing her toward the staircase, continued in a rapid undertone as they. descended: "Evidently Mr. Lorimer was right, after all, and they are engaged, and I must say I am astounded. Why should ho—Captain Raymond—havo concealed such an important thing? Why, I should 'have written or telegraphed to her at once! , She's frightfully upset, naturally, and has come to take him away to a nursing home at Exeter, and brought Sir Vincent Royle, the famous surgeon, to see him. If I had only known I could have spared her that expense, for it's not in the least necessary—hd's getting on so well; though it' may be a splendid thing for us, for Letty has been 1 telling Sir Vincent about" your father, and he was so interested, < and asked to see him first, when lie heard that Captain Raymond, was so much better. And oh, dear, that poor nurse is still sitting outside in the car. Do go and fetch her in, Chris. Take her into the morning room and tell Susan to get tea for them all. Bowen is in with your father and Sir Vincent—" .The dining room door opened, and Sir Vincent, a handsome, genial-looking man, appeared. ■ * "Ah, Miss Carey, will you come in ? So this is your niece ? I think I've some very good news for you both." He bestowed a fatherly smile on Chris as he followed her aunt into, the dining room and closed the door behind them. Chris stood for a minute or more in the gloom of tho old panelled hall. A gloom that seemed suddenly to have descended upon her, shrouding her very soul. What was it the great man had said ? "Good news?" That could only mean that there was hope of her father's recovery. Splendid news, indeed! She must try to think of that only—of nothing else in tho world! . (To be continued daily.)